World War Z: The Deputised Halls of History
by kinarth
Summary: The Story of a group of people who managed to survive in one of the hallowed halls of history of the United States Military. May Continue depending on the responce. Complete... for now.


Disclaimer: I do not own **World War Z**; it belongs to Max Brooks. God bless the USMC and all of the other armed services of the United States. I give a great thank you to the police and others for keeping us safe.

Woodbridge, VA

**I stand on the shore of the Occoquan River. My host, a former Virginia State trooper, now a local hero and fishing guide for the area, guides me along the river to the docks just upstream of a collapsed bridge.**

My family lived about two miles from here. We lived next to one of the main roads back then. We lived just south of the "Mixing Bowl," the junction of multiple interstates in VA. That little over-constructed area withso many overpasses that if one support column went three interstates would be disconnected.

The military offered my dad three seats on a plane west.

**You didn't go?**

I couldn't. Our department was still active at the time of the withdrawal(those who stuck around that is). At least half of our barracks alone had deserted those that were left. After the governor declared all police units disbanded, a group of us went over to the National Museum of the Marine Corps in Quantico. Northern Virginia was barely above the snow line back then. We didn't allow any person that was infected-be they officer, civilian, man, woman, or child-into the museum.

**You knew what the infection was?**

I studied infectious diseases along with Criminal Justice when I went to UVA. I knew that it wasn't rabies because my friend had published his thesis on the rabies virus. No virus-except the now known Solarium Virus-is known to send people into comas and cause their vital functions to fail. Almost all viruses cause organ failure in different ways: massive fevers, blood clots, organs breaking down and so on. Where was I?

**Where you and the others were going.**

Ah yes. We all went down to the Marine Corps Museum. I called in a favor from the Corps. we would stay in the museum as long as we defended it as best we could. They had written off all of the merchandise in the gift shop and all of the perishable food. I had some friends come in while all of the police forces were still active. They stockpiled what supplies there were and fortified the museum- steel on the doors and a new steel shutter on the entrance way. They also cleared the woods around the museum, giving us both fire wood and clear lines of fire. Then, after we were released, my partner and I, along with about seven other officers, grabbed some supplies from various sized trucks and booked them down to the museum. My partner and I were the first of our little convoy to reach the museum. We were driving our motorcycles to be the forward element of the convoy. The next group to arrive was the three tractor trailers we set up. One contained about a ton of MRE's and clothing. The second truck was a tanker full of water. The final truck contained something real special: this special UAV project that DARPA had working on, the Solar Eagle. That beauty could have flown on its own for five years without having to land. We repurposed her solar panels to be used as our primary power system. We were never cold those first seven years before the batteries finally died mid-June. By then we stored enough wood to last another two years before we used the emergency generator to heat the for two and a half more years.

The final vehicle to arrive was the armored vehicle that had been assigned to our barracks: a Bear-Cat. The Bear-Cat's basically an armored truck for police and government use. It held our medical supplies and even more ammunition. During one of their last Helicopter flights before the Army came rolling in, the leathernecks dropped off three crates filled with replacement barrels and firing pins for all of the weapons available in the museum. Not to mention the other five crates filled with ammunition for all of those weapons, we were well off. I wonder where they managed to scrounge up all of those .45 caliber rounds for our Thompsons or the .30 caliber rounds for the two M1919's we had.

We never really had any problems with Zack. We only really had one or two three-day sieges during those first few chaotic weeks. The only real problem we had was when a C130 went down on their way to Fort Belvoir about one year before the Army reached us. Honolulu asked us to go and rescue any of the crew we could. Luckily, the pilot and the crew chief landed in a mostly depopulated area. Most Zed-heads were going after Quantico, Fort Belvoir, or Washington. We had enough gasoline for my partner and I to drive up there on our motorcycles and save the downed wing wipers. When we got there, we saw the fuselage had taken out the bridge. Most of the local Zed Heads were either stuck in the water after going after the people on the river or stuck in their cars, but they were taken out when the bridge fell. The Pilot and the Crew Chief were both on top of that building over there.

_**He points to a group of buildings. At first, I thought they were town houses.**_

They managed to land on top of an old paint-your-own-pottery building. Unfortunately, they had a group of thirty Zed Heads around them. My partner and I head a pair of m1a1 carbines with our own homemade silencers. While I stood guard, my partner took out Zack one at a time (she had always been the better shot) after I signaled the crew to do the same with their Megs.

When we finally killed all of them about twenty more had come out of the river as the pilots made their way up to us. One or two of the Zed Heads tried to sneak up on us but a 5.56 mm round to the cranium will keep any one down. After the Pilot and her Crew Chief hopped on our motorcycles, we got out of dodge and went straight back to the museum.

**Not to Quantico or Fort Belvoir?**

We knew that as soon as we even got close to either of those bases, we would have at least a thousand Zed Heads on us and even more as the chain swarm developed. After getting close to the museum and taking care of the few Zed Heads that had taken up a silent vigil to try and get to the others, I radioed the museum and told them to go ahead and initiate a kill plan and to contact us when they finished mopping up.

**Kill plan?**

We developed kill plans in case a resource gathering party, a few more zombies, or a rescue party like we were showed up while we were gone. We had three basic plans. Plan One featured one of our marksmen opening up the shutters on one of the doors and taking them out with suppressed weaponry. Plan Two was employing multiple riflemen to try and get rid of Zack. The final plan was only for the short sieges. We would bring our patrol rifles first, then one of the M1919's, and we'd just go rock n' roll at head level with a marksman cleaning up what we missed. After about five minutes, they called back and said it was clear. Our bikes had made it about halfway up the parking when we hoofed it towards the museum; we could hear Zack coming up the hill after us. After we made it, I finally noticed who the crew members we saved were. One was my cousin, Michelle, who last I heard was in San Diego and one of my old high school friends, MIkey, who was supposed to be in Washington helping clear Olympia National Park.

About a year later, mid-April I think, right before the spring bloom of wild flowers, I saw this wave of blue coming up over the horizon. Some of us were about to leave and get more fire wood; we were just about to run out when we finally saw them. The Army, the Armyfinally made it back to reclaim what was theirs again.

We did the only thing appropriate at the time. You see, we had taken the flags down from the flag pole after the withdrawal. When the Army started marching over Interstate 95 to reach us, we hoisted the Star Spangled banner and started to sing the national anthem. There were a lot of tears that day as we finally realized that we had done what others were unable to do. We made it.

After the Army liberated the rest of America, my partner, Regina, and I got married. We moved out to Chincoteague Island. With their sea walls making easy pickings for the town defenders, they really didn't have a problem with Zack. But every year both of us come back to the town on V.A. day. We wanted to explain to different groups of people, be it the children, politicians, military or even new recruits to the police and FBI academies, what we had to do to survive. Regina's currently spending time with her family over at the top of the hill. They moved back here after Hero City was liberated.

**As we finish our interview he points to something tied to the dock.**

You see that over there. That's the boat the Museum Twelve, as we're called now, used to navigate the Occoquan River with the rest of the Army during the final push east. And five years after I moved out to Chincoteague, the fish are finally coming back to the area. On occasion you can catch a trout or two, but if you're real lucky you can catch a catfish. Believe me, after ten years of MRE's fresh catfish or trout, and especially croaker when I fish out in the Atlantic, tastes better with a pinch of lemon. Anything tastes better then repeated tootsie rolls and MRE's. I met my family a few times since V.A. Day. My sister lives in L.A., writing books and teaching English at a local middle school. My mom and dad live in San Francisco on a beach front house just like mom always wanted.

Now, if you would excuse me sir, I believe Regina is coming this way.

**As he walks away my guide meets up with a woman about his height and they both walk off towards the paint-your-own-pottery place talking animatedly as they walk away from me.**


End file.
